“Downstairs is Hero’s . . . lair, if you will. It houses his armor, weapons, the security system. It’s completely protected should we ever need it to be. His body is his best weapon and the key to his survival, but he needs his tools as well.”

“Tools?”

“Of course. We never know what he might encounter. Tranquilizer darts, retractable, industrial strength rope, chloroform capsules. Those are just the things he keeps in his belt.”

“Chloroform? Is that what he used on me?”

“Yes. And then I gave you a mild tranquilizer when you arrived.”

“What makes you think that’s okay?”

He shrugs. “I suspect it was a nicer way of knocking you out than whatever the Cartel had planned.”

I cross my arms. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“You must be curious. You know the secret now, so I don’t see the harm.”

“I don’t care what Calvin needs to justify his psychotic behavior.” It’s a lie. I am curious about the downstairs space, which I envision as a dark and dank cave filled with the things of comic books.

“There’s no Batmobile or anything like that,” Norman says, and my eyes grow big. In light of recent events, I’m not entirely sure they can’t read my thoughts. “The car’s in the garage. He drives a high-class vehicle, but there’s not much more to it than your average car, aside from bulletproof windows and some upgrades catered to speed and agility. Much like Master Parish himself,” he murmurs, chuckling.

“Is this funny?” I ask. “I’m sorry, I just—is there some humor in the situation I’m not seeing?”

“Oh, dear, no,” Norman says, rushing to my side. He surprises me with a strong hug. “I don’t find pleasure in any of this. And though you may not believe me, the same is true for Master Parish. He’s not the monster you believe him to be.”

“Then you don’t know him as well as you think,” I say, limp in his arms. “Either that, or your definition of monster needs updating.”

He sniffles in my ear as his chest crackles against me. This old man, who has devoted his life to helping from the wings, is going to cry right here while he holds me.

“You’re a good girl.” His voice splits down the middle. “He just wants to keep you safe. That’s why he took you. That’s why he’s sending you away.”

“He’s not sending me away,” I say, my first flicker of anger returning. I wrestle out of Norman’s embrace and step back. “He’s giving me back something he took. That wasn’t his to take in the first place.” Norman’s face falls. “What’s the next step?” I ask.

“Cataline—”

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my hands into two solid fists. “The plan, Norman. I’m not free until I’m free. What’s the plan? Where am I going?”

“Sit,” he says with a defeated sigh, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. He takes the seat next to me and slides a pile of papers into his lap. He shows me a long, rectangular envelope. “Your plane ticket,” he says. “New Rhone is no longer your home.”

I swallow. My head shakes involuntarily. “I’ve never wanted to be anywhere else.”

“You have to go. These people only want you as a means to an end. They have no regard for your life like Master Parish does.”

I look out the window and nod.

“You have a full few days of travel ahead of you. You’ll be staying each night of the next week in a new location to throw anyone off the scent.” He hesitates. “You will pick up a new ticket in each place you land. I can’t tell you your final destination, just that someone will be waiting there for you.”

“It’s that serious? They’d follow me out of New Rhone?”

“We’re not sure, but Master Parish is insistent we take all precautions. Your safety is his responsibility, or so he believes.”

“It’s not.”

“In any case, do not tell anyone of your plans. Carter is fully briefed on the situation. He’ll take you directly to the airport and see to it that you get on the plane safely. He’s been on staff as long as anyone, and he’s the strongest, most capable man we have.”

“Aside from Calvin.”

“Yes, aside from Calvin. But, uh, he’s indisposed today.”

“Of course,” I say. “I don’t expect another minute of his time.”

He clears his throat. “Very well.” He holds up a blue booklet and passes it to me. “Your new passport.” He averts his eyes when he says, “You’re no longer Cataline Ford.”

My fingers tighten around its smoothness. “What if I don’t agree to any of this?” I ask. “What if I want to be Cataline, and I want to go back to work at Parish Media, and I want to go home and see Frida and live in New Rhone? Why can’t I do that?”

“I suppose you can if you don’t think their threat is serious. But Calvin will always be here. He’ll never leave this city.”

“Then why not kill everyone involved? If he wants to protect me so fervently, why not just wipe out the bad guys?”

“The people of New Rhone love and respect Hero, therefore they let him do what needs to be done. In a way, they protect him too. If he were to start killing recklessly, he’d lose their support. You must understand, without this, Master Parish has nothing.”

I sigh. “I know. The city should be his first priority.”

Norman tilts his head to catch my gaze. “Not only that, but you’ve told me you hated that job and what you really want is to pursue photography.”

I look down at the paperwork in my lap, thumbing the passport open. The picture is the same as the one from my license, which I haven’t seen since before I arrived. But the name next to it is different. Jennifer Dean. “I did,” I say. “I guess I still do.”

“When you stayed with the Andersons, Calvin gave them a stipend for your care.”

My head jerks up. “What?”

“After you left, they were instructed to send you a monthly allowance. Apparently that money never made it to you. It’s all here, some cash, some in a savings account, plus credit cards in your new name.” Another envelope, this one large and heavy, lands in my lap. He gives me the warmest smile I’ve ever received. “Enough to do—well, whatever your heart desires. This is your chance to start over, dear. Live the life you’ve deserved ever since their death.”

My eyes burn holes through the envelope. Restitution for the destruction of my life. Something to allay Calvin’s guilt for what he’s done. It makes me sick to accept it, but what choice do I have? Where I’m going, how else will I get by?

“Are you scared?” he asks.

“No.”

He sits back. “No?”

“I don’t even know how to be scared. I’m finding that when your world is ripped apart, you have to learn everything all over again. I thought I . . . I mean, what is love, anyway? Or fear? I can’t touch them. I can’t hold them in my hand. How do I know they’re real?”

“If that’s what you think, then maybe you and Calvin aren’t all that different.”

My lips thin into a line. “Are we through here?”

Norman fills me in on the rest of the details and ends up packing for me. My suitcase is filled with foreign clothes and disguises designed and labeled by him. And my camera, the only thing I care to take. When Norman asks if I’d like to be alone one more time to say good-bye to the mansion, I look at him like he’s gone mad.

My heart pounds as we cross the foyer to the front door. Sunlight pierces the dusky room when Norman cracks the door. I pass through a shimmering cloud of dust particles to the doorway. I just catch Norman’s concerned expression before I allow myself one slow, controlled step outside. I walk down the solid stairs and onto the gravel driveway. Carter hulks over the car, leaning both elbows on the roof. We make eye contact, and I glance at Norman, who nods.

I don’t look back, not even to make sure this isn’t a cruel joke and Calvin’s there, ready to snatch and lock me inside again. My steps pick up speed, my suitcase tumbling behind me. When I get there, Carter is opening my door and ushering me inside with a quick glance around the area.

When he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Ready for your trip, Cataline?”

“Get me away from here. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

I say this as though it matters what I want. Wherever I go, Calvin can find me. He doesn’t want to though, and I hate what the thought inspires in me. I abruptly douse that ember of longing. He wants me gone just as much as I want to be gone. For the first time in a while, I sigh with relief. I let myself believe the lie that I’m finally safe again. Finally free.

43

“You make me real. When you breathe into me, when you’re inside me, expanding, coming, you make me real.”

“You make yourself real, Cataline.”

“No. I wasn’t real until I felt you inside me.”

Was stripping myself bare and taking all of Calvin inside my body a dream? How can loving someone who doesn’t exist feel so real?

It’s not until Carter and I have been driving for some time that I tune in to my surroundings. My heart fills amongst the tall, glowering buildings of New Rhone, and the car’s reflection warps in silver, mirrored windows. It seems more sinister than it did months ago, the skyscrapers blending with a grey sky. It’s a haven nonetheless.

My mood plummets when I orient myself, though. The buildings shrink to standalone, rundown shops that appear deserted. One is on fire. Some pedestrians scramble to put it out while others lean against the opposite building, cigarettes sagging from their mouths.

The car suddenly veers from the pavement onto a dirt path. “Carter?” I ask as I jostle in my seat. “Maybe I’ve never flown before, but I know there aren’t any airports on the East Side.”